the thing is there's like, a point of oversaturation for everything, and it's why so many things get dropped after a few minutes. and we act like millennials or gen z kids "have short attention spans" but... that's not quite it. it's more like - we did like it. you just ruined it.
capitalism sees product A having moderate success, and then everything has to come out with their "own version" of product A (which is often exactly the same). and they dump extreme amounts of money and environmental waste into each horrible simulacrum they trot out each season.
now it's not just tiktokkers making videos; it's that instagram and even fucking tumblr both think you want live feeds and video-first programming. and it helps them, because videos are easier to sneak native ads into. the books coming out all have to have 78 buzzwords in them for SEO, or otherwise they don't get published. they are making a live-action remake of moana. i haven't googled it, but there's probably another marvel or starwars something coming out, no matter when you're reading this post.
and we are like "hi, this clone of project A completely misses the point of the original. it is soulless and colorless and miserable." and the company nods and says "yes totally. here is a different clone, but special." and we look at clone 2 and we say "nope, this one is still flat and bad, y'all" and they're like "no, totally, we hear you," and then they make another clone but this time it's, like, a joyless prequel. and by the time they've successfully rolled out "clone 89", the market is incredibly oversaturated, and the consumer is blamed because the company isn't turning a profit.
and like - take even something digital like the tumblr "live streaming" function i just mentioned. that has to take up server space and some amount of carbon footprint; just so this brokenass blue hellsite can roll out a feature that literally none of its userbase actually wants. the thing that's the kicker here: even something that doesn't have a physical production plant still impacts the environment.
and it all just feels like it's rolling out of control because like, you watch companies pour hundreds of thousands of dollars into a remake of a remake of something nobody wants anymore and you're like, not able to afford eggs anymore. and you tell the company that really what you want is a good story about survival and they say "okay so you mean a YA white protagonist has some kind of 'spicy' love triangle" and you're like - hey man i think you're misunderstanding the point of storytelling but they've already printed 76 versions of "city of blood and magic" and "queen of diamond rule" and spent literally millions of dollars on the movie "Candy Crush Killer: Coming to Eat You".
it's like being stuck in a room with a clown that keeps telling the same joke over and over but it's worse every time. and that would be fine but he keeps fucking charging you 6.99. and you keep being like "no, i know it made me laugh the first time, but that's because it was different and new" and the clown is just aggressively sitting there saying "well! plenty of people like my jokes! the reason you're bored of this is because maybe there's something wrong with you!"
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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have
It was halfway through his shift the next day, just after he'd come back from lunch, that the anonymous tip came through. Dick had frozen when he heard it, but only slightly because the others were brushing it off as a prank call.
"'Blockbuster's after someone named Oracle,'" Officer Diaz had scoffed, "What a joke. Aren't kids supposed to know that their stupid prank calls clog the system? What if someone who actually had useful information had needed to call, huh?"
Dick didn't mention that that isn't how the tip system works, nor did he eve attempt to scold the officer for brushing it off, no matter how stupid it seemed. No, instead, he was stuck in his thoughts.
Blockbuster is after Oracle. Why is he after Oracle? It doesn't make sense! No one in Bludhaven, save for himself, should no who she is! Besides, he'd kept all of the attention on himself. No one was able to even think about the heroes or rogues in Gotham without him knowing! Or, so he'd thought. How does Blockbuster know Oracle's name? More importantly at the moment was who sent the tip.
There was another scoff from one of the others. Did he say that out loud? "Look, I know you're new and everything, but shouldn't you know the mean of 'anonymous'?"
He forced himself out of his head, rubbing his neck with his left hand with a fake smile. "Yeah, I do. I guess I'm just a bit out of it today."
"Well, get your head back in the game," Detective Soames snapped, hitting a file on the back of Dick's head, "File that for me, then file the rest on my desk."
"Yes, sir," Dick took the file, ignoring the snickers and snide remarks from his coworkers.
He knows he's not going to be able to fully focus on anything for the rest of the day, possibly not even until after he finds out who sent that tip and how Blockbuster knows Oracle's name.
Oracle. Dick knows she can handle herself, but he doesn't like the fact that anyone knows her name. Not even B knows about Oracle! Babs had spent so much time and energy keeping her online persona from B so that she could have at least something of her own that Dick had taken it upon himself to erase traces connecting him to Oracle. She didn't deserve to have Batman on her ass, nor did she deserve to have Nightwing's enemies go after her!
He shook himself back into the present with a soft sigh. He'll call Barbra as soon as he gets home.
***
"Danny!" Dick calls into the apartment, knowing full well that the kid is in the kitchen, "I'm home!"
"Welcome back," Danny responds from where he's standing at the stove. He, Dick realizes, does not sound happy.
He hangs his coat up on the hooks he installed beside the door, his shoes going on the rack below them. "You good? You sound a bit upset?"
"I am upset." Danny, after getting comfortable around him, has stopped sugar-coating his words, being brutally honest. Dick blinks. "I was going to message Tim, but I saw a lack of apologies from you."
Oh. Dick had meant to do what Danny said last night and apologise to that Tim kid for snapping at him, but he had been a lot more tired than usual and it had slipped his mind. "I was going to use my phone?"
"You don't have his number."
Another thing Dick had come to learn about Danny in the few weeks they'd been living together was that he can't be lied to. He somehow picks up on lies, so even Dick's best efforts - that have fooled even Batman! - are always thwarted.
"I meant to," Dick said, sitting on one of the new barstools at he island counter, "But I was really tired last night."
Danny sighed. "Because you were out longer than you're now used to." He turned the burner off, moving the pan to sit on the hotpad beside it. "You're body's gotten used to only being out for eight hours during the day and six hours at night. You going out for eight hours last night wore you out more than usual because you're no longer used to your seventeen hour work days."
Dick tilted his head, accepting the bowl of soup he was given. "But it's only been a few weeks?"
"It only takes eighteen days for your body to get used to a routine." He said, placing a bowl of homemade rolls on the island. "After about sixty-six days, it becomes habitual."
"But it hasn't been sixty-six days."
"No, but it has been twenty-one days."
He hesitated for a moment. "Has it really been only that long?" Then, "Have you been counting?"
Danny blushed, sitting beside Dick with his own bowl of soup. "I've been keeping track of your schedule, which means I gotta keep a calendar. I haven't been counting on purpose."
Dick smiled, eating the soup. As usual, it was really good. The first week of Danny's stay, he'd asked where he'd learned to cook, but Danny had given a non-answer, saying only that his parents couldn't make anything edible that wasn't fudge or cookies.
After they had both finished eating, Dick's portions and appetite being larger than Danny's because of the calories he burns as Nightwing, they settled into a nice quiet. Dick had changed from his uniform into sweats and a T-shirt while Danny had chosen a movie. Then, Dick cleaned up dinner and Danny changed into a hoodie and sweats.
"We still need to take you shopping," Dick pointed out when they were both sitting on the couch, ready to start the movie.
Danny shook his head. "Letting me stay here is already enough. Besides, your old clothes work perfectly fine."
"But you're room's so empty! And my clothes don't even fit you!"
There was a pause like Danny was thinking. Dick had the feeling he might not like whatever was going to be said next.
He was right.
"I'll let you take me shopping next week," Danny agreed, "if we go to Gotham tomorrow so that you can apologise to Tim in person."
Dick's jaw twitched. He didn't want to go to Gotham. Going to Gotham meant that he'd inevitably run into Bruce. He wanted to stay far away from that man.
Then again, he'd promised Alfred to come by some time. And, it'd be nice to see Barbra and Jim again. Maybe he could have Alfred make sure Bruce wouldn't be in the Manor?
"So?" Danny promted.
He sighed. "You're evil, y'know that?"
His grin said it all. "I could be so much worse."
"Please don't."
"Don't give me a reason."
Part 9 Part 11
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How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have
"Hey, Babs,"
"Dick? It's late, what's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong!"
"I'm about to go on patrol, D, can this wait?"
A sigh. "No."
"What's wrong?"
"Blockbuster's after Oracle."
***
Gotham Proper is a thirty-three minute drive from Bludhaven. The drive to Bristol from Bludhaven is a fifty-one minute drive through Drescher, Burnside, Sumerset, Victoria Place, and Little Stockton before crossing the bridge over Gotham River into Bristol. Gotham Proper is made of four islands connected to each other and the mainland via several bridges. Technically, all of those cities and towns - as well as Charon and Brentwood - are sister cities like Bludhaven, but everyone counts them as a part of Gotham anyway.
Dick spent the entire drive alternating between sulking and panicking.
Danny would know. Ghosts, as he's come to understand, are beings made of emotion, meaning that he can sense emotions better than living beings. Though, he didn't need an empth ability to read the air around Dick.
'What if something happens while we're gone?" Dick asked for the nth time in the past few minutes, "What if Brutale decides to blow something up while I'm gone? What if Blockbuster starts something big?"
"Bigger than what he's already doing?" Danny didn't bother to look up from his conversation with Tim. "The fact that you can't even name specific examples proves that you're not actually worried about Blockbuster or Brutale."
"I'm worried about Brutale blowing something up, thank you very much."
"Yeah, 'something'. Who even is Brutale anyway? I don't think I know that name."
"No one you need to worry about." He moved into the right lane.
Danny turned his phone off and set it face down on his leg. "What are you really worried about, Dick? I've known you for five weeks now, and I've never seen you this worried about anything."
"You've known me for three weeks."
"No, you've known me for three weeks. I've known you for five weeks. And don't change the subject."
Dick sighed, running his left hand through his hair before dropping it back onto the steering wheel.
"Is it Bruce?"
"...yeah."
"You know he's at work, right?"
"Yeah, I- How do you know that?"
He waved his phone a bit. "I checked with Tim. So, it's just going to be Tim and Alfred at the Manor when we get there."
"You know Alfred?"
"I know of Alfred." Danny slapped his right shoulder, "Stop trying to change the subject!"
"I can't help it! Deflecting has worked pretty damn well for me up until this point!"
"Oh, yeah? Against who?"
"Literally everyone!"
"Everyone?"
A beat. "Okay, so maybe only most people, but that's not the point!"
"Doesn't matter what your point is because we're going back to talking about mine!" He huffed. "If you don't want to go straight to Wayne Manor, then stop by somewhere else. You had to have gained at least one friend in Gotham before you moved to Bludhaven."
Dick paused for a moment, eyeing the signs. They'd only been driving for twenty minutes. He could hang a right just before Sumerset to cross the New Trigate Bridge into Arkham Island, take another right onto Midtown and drive to Old Gotham to meet Babs/. Yeah, that'd be nice. But, the detour would increase the chance of running into Bruce later on in the day. Maybe he could have Bab's drive to the Manor?
"Is it too late to turn around?"
"Yes."
"Why are you even so insistent on going? You don't know anyone in Gotham!"
"I know Tim!" He argued. "Besides, healthy relationships are good in this kind of work."
Dick raised his eyebrow, glancing at Danny from the corner of his eye. "You wanna second to rethink that or..?"
Danny clicked his tongue. "Look, I know you don't want to talk to Bruce, and I'm not asking you to. I'm asking you to apologize to Tim for snapping at him. If you end up with better relations here in Gotham, then that only works in your favor."
Dick groaned, ditching the turn onto New Trigate and continuing on through Sumerset. "Fine! But we're leaving before Bruce gets back. I can't stand him right now."
Danny smiled, a sad look in his eye. "Alright."
He knew very well that Dick's relationship was near irreparable. From what he'd gathered, from either overhearing or snooping, Bruce had been a pretty good dad and boss to Dick up until he'd turned seventeen. He hung up the Robin mantle when he was eighteen, appearing as Nightwing when he was nineteen. Bruce, apparently, hadn't taken this very well, but copped, adopint ong Jason Todd when Dick was twenty years old, giving him the Robin mantle a few months later.
According to Dick, when Jason was killed, he'd been off world. Bruce hadn't even called him to inform him, let alone tell him about the funeral. And, when Dick got back and heard what happened from Batgirl, he'd confronted Batman in the Batcave. Batman, apparently, though he's inclined to Dick's side, punched him the face and shifted the blame.
Danny doesn't blame Dick for being angry. Not for a second. He can't really relate, but he understands.
Entering Bristol, there was a shift in the air. Outside was stuffy and smelled like money. Inside the car, however, was tense. Dick's attitude shifted to his work smile. It was plastic.
This was going to be a long day.
He didn't say anything. Quietly, Danny messaged Tim, letting him know about the shift. Tim was quick to respond, letting Danny know that he was fully prepared for whatever was coming. Danny didn't think he was.
Danny knew that something was going to happen. The air was suddenly suffocating, the world fake manufactured to perfection.
"You alright there, bud?" Dick asked, his voice perfectly professional.
"Yeah, fine. I-I'm fine." Danny wanted this car to turn around.
Part 10 Part 12
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